ther and
his own father were all looking at him....

He heard presently the same voice talking:

"--and answer the questions that are put to you.... Now then, we will
begin the others, if it please you better.... In what month was it that
you first became privy to the plot against her Grace?"

"Wait!" whispered the priest. "Wait, and I will answer that." (He
understood that there was a trap here. The question had been framed
differently last time. But his mind was all a-whirl; and he feared he
might answer wrongly if he could not collect himself. He still wondered
why so many friends of his were in the room--even Father Campion....)

He drew a breath again presently, and tried to speak; but his voice
broke like a shattered trumpet, and he could not command it.... He must
whisper.

"It was in August, I think.... I think it was August, two years ago."...

"August ... you mean May or April."

"No; it was August.... At least, all that I know of the plot was when
... when--" (His thoughts became confused again; it was like strings of
wool, he thought, twisted violently together; a strand snapped now and
again. He made a violent effort and caught an end as it was slipping
away.) "It was in August, I think; the day that Mr. Babington fled, that
he wrote to me; and sent me--" (He paused: he became aware that here,
too, lurked a trap if he were to say he had seen Mary; he would surely
be asked what he had seen her for, and his priesthood might be so proved
against him.... He could not remember whether that had been proved; and
so ... would Father Campion advise him perhaps whether....)

The voice jarred again; and startled him into a flash of coherence. He
thought he saw a way out.

"Well?" snapped the voice. "Sent you?... Sent you whither?"

"Sent me to Chartley; where I saw her Grace ... her Grace of the Scots;
and ... 'As Thy arms, O Christ....'"

"Now then; now then--! So your saw her Grace? And what was that for?"

"I saw her Grace ... and ... and told her what Mr. Babington had told
me."

"What was that, then?"

"That ... that he was her servant till death; and ... and a thousand if
he had them. And so, 'As Thy arms, O--'"

"Water," barked the voice.

Again came the rush as of cataracts; and a sensation of drowning. There
followed an instant's glow of life; and then the intolerable pain came
back; and the heavy, red-streaked darkness....

II

He found himself, after some period, lying more easily.